


Don't call it a fight, when you know it's a war.

by oathkeptroxas



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Angst, Breaking Up & Making Up, Death, Drug Abuse, M/M, Night Terrors, PTSD, Secret Relationship, Secret dating, Violence, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathkeptroxas/pseuds/oathkeptroxas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy Harper unknowingly enters a tentative relationship with a boy who is secretly Red X/Jason Todd.<br/>(obviously in keeping with the popular theory that Red X is in fact Jason. Pre-52 character origins and characterizations, but following Teen Titans animated canon, in terms of setting and relevance of other characters.)<br/>A collection of drabbles related to a verse. Full summary inside. Please read notes.<br/>Really just jayroy angst in the general sense, no where near as complicated or plotted as the summary makes it sound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a roleplay verse established by myself and a friend, I play the Roy to her Jason. It is absolutely not necessary to be familiar with our roleplay in order to read these drabbles.
> 
> In short: Speedy is a member of Titans East, and they obviously don't know who Speedy really is or the things he's gone through.  
> Roy goes to a bar to blow off some steam and meets a boy who introduces himself as Peter Hayes, they strike up a friendship that quickly becomes more. They have more in common than they ever could've imagined. Their individual issues cause hurdles in their relationship. They both have a tendency to run from their feelings, but what matters is that, in the end, they stay. Not even the reveal that "Peter" is actually Red X/Jason Todd can keep Roy away.
> 
> As this follows animated canon, Roy has no preconceived notions of who Jason is. Roy and Dick do not retain their comic friendship, so Roy would have no reason to recognize Jason for who he really is.  
> These drabbles are not in chronological order and are generally set in potential futures of the established verse. Mostly just Jayroy angst in the general sense.
> 
> As I play Roy, he is who I am most comfortable writing. Though I love Jason a lot (anyone who knows me will tell you), I am not all that confident in writing him. But I can't do much worse than some of DCs writers.

His lips are laced with bitter coffee and the harshness of cigarette smoke,

 

and in his eyes you see flashes of that same harsh bitterness. His hands are rough and callous, worn and scarred, yet they feel smooth and silken as his fingers swipe the curve of your cheek, and trace down the contours of your jaw.

You’ve walked away from this more times than you can count, and you’ve come running, hurdling back more times than your pride will let you admit.

He’s no good for you.  
You both know it.

But you have a history of self-destructive behavior, and no other vice has ever made you feel quite like this. This isn’t about feeling alive, this is about feeling real. It’s a blooming warmth inside the hollow of your ribs and a thrumming under your skin that begs you to get closer. There’s an absurd safety in the dark beside him, a knowing that no matter how bad things get you’ll come back, and so will he, always.

His lips are laced with bitter coffee and the harshness of cigarette smoke, and you kiss him like you’re dying.


	2. Chapter 2

It started out the same as always, sharing cigarettes in the dead of night, keeping a birds-eye view on the city. Their relationship had progressed at a snails pace, and what had began as a mutual kindling curiosity between them, had somehow evolved into a tentative desire for something a little deeper.

Trivial, off-hand, half-hearted conversations had slowly unraveled into painful truths and abstract confessions that eluded to past occurrences neither of them could speak of in their entirety. And carefully and hesitantly they began to learn each other, until they found comfort in each other’s presence, even in silence.

That connection meant a lot to Roy, the mere idea that there was someone out there who would listen when he ranted out his anger, who would knock him down a peg when he was out of line, someone who knew him and didn’t judge him. It was a heady relief to just have someone fill that role in his life, and for a long time that had been enough. 

It was enough, he would make do. He could take that. But somewhere along the way he’d begun to want more. He never could leave well enough alone. But, it was more than a little difficult to find the right way to approach such a sensitive subject. He didn’t ever want the object of his affection to doubt the legitimacy of his feelings. 

Roy worried that the person who’d suddenly become his best friend would feel cheated by his desires. Roy never wanted there to be any questions regarding how important their relationship was, regardless of the nature of it.

And he knew that if this progressed the way he hoped for, and lasted for the perceivable future like he wished, then eventually he’d have to come completely clean, about everything. He’d have to reveal his mask and quiver, but with every day they spent together, he felt more and more that it would be worth it

After a few hours of smoking and talking, the sun began to peek over the horizon. The orange hues to the morning light created a halo around the other boys silhouette, and shadowed his expression from view. But the light of the backdrop and the obstruction of his face compelled Roy to reach out. Tentatively he cupped the younger boy’s jaw and inched closer, and ever so gently pressed their mouths together.

It lasted only a second, just a moment before Roy pulled back and hoped beyond hoped he hadn’t royally fucked this up. 

The other boy’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at Roy for a long minute. 

“Jason, “ He breathed.

“…What?” Roy asked, perplexed.

 

“My name. It’s Jason.”

 

And Roy felt a small smile stretch his lips, because for that kind of trust to finally be placed in him, he could take the fact he’d been lied to.


	3. Chapter 3

His gun-calloused hands skim the hollow of your throat, maybe to feel the steady beat of your pulse, or maybe to wrap around and suffocate.   
You’re at peace with either.  
You end and begin in his hold.  
And this is not a startling revelation to make, your defenses had never been built to withstand the force of him. He’d found every chink in your armour, every empty crevice of your life and worked his way in, grown and expanded to fill each space with nothing but him, him, him.  
Until you weren’t yourself in his absence.   
But perhaps that hadn’t been what he’d wanted, or maybe the reality of what you are didn’t meet his quiet expectations. He leaves you full of bullet holes that leak your sorrow. He fills you up and leaves you hollow. The wind blows through you, the cold does not break against you. You are half a person, less than.  
And it wasn’t your fault he couldn’t cope. It was never your idea to give him these chances and pieces and to have them dropped and discarded. You’d been swept away. But he comes and goes, tells you beautiful half-truths that he regrets later, and flees and runs and hides.  
You search for knife-scarred skin in your bed at night, and find only pillows too plush, too warm. You miss the cold, hard marble of his presence. And anything would hurt less than this.  
His gun-calloused hands skim the hollow of your throat, and you wish he’d just choke you.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a dreary afternoon and the rain fell in relentless sheets outside the safe-house window. In companionable silence the two boys sat upon the battered old sofa, its cushions were worn in and comfortable from many nights curled up sleeping there. 

Roy was absently channel-surfing, with his feet propped casually upon Jason’s lap as he lay length-ways. Jason was nestled in the corner, his fingers grasping a creased, old novel, with its spine cracked and it’s cover wrinkled. His eyes scanned the pages intently as he immersed himself in a story Roy had witnessed him finish a thousand times over, he no-doubt knew it by heart.

Neither one of them were the type to openly discuss more serious topics, at least in regards to their own thoughts and feelings. When things got personal, they tended to get gone. 

It was a revelation to Roy that even though he and Jay were not in any form of official relationship, and they probably would not be hashing out their boundaries anytime soon either, but despite that uncertainty, Roy had not so much as glanced elsewhere since he and Jason had started this tenuous whatever this was.

Roy glanced over at the younger boy, and poked a toe into Jason’s stomach, the thief swatted it away, but didn’t falter in his reading. Roy smirked and tried again, this time earning him a sigh for his trouble.

Jason dog-earred his page and cast Roy a scathing look. “What is it, Harper?”

Roy chuckled and crossed his arms behind his head, his feet once again sitting comfortably in Jason’s lap. “Nothin’. Just, we spend a lot of time together, you noticed?”

Jason quirked an eyebrow. And Roy conceded it was a rather stupid question, he chuckled. “I just meant that, we’re always hanging out, doing nothing, I probably spend more time with you than any of the Titans these days, and we don’t even do anything but sit around here.” 

That wasn’t strictly true, there had been cuddling - quite a lot of it in fact - and sleep-drunk, chaste kisses pressed to temples and foreheads, but to bring that up would be to open up a conversation that Roy wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for.

“Well maybe we should do something.” Jason suggested, his voice was laced with something akin to nerves, a slight tremor on the word ‘something’ that let Roy know this wasn’t just a throw-away statement.

"What?” He responded with, but in his defense he’d never been known for being articulate. 

Jason scoffed and returned his attention to his novel. “Forget about it.”

Roy’s lips stretched into a grin and he withdrew his legs from Jason’s lap so he could crawl across the space between them. He pressed a kiss to the curve of Jay’s jaw and murmured. “Y’know, I definitely think we should do something.”


	5. Chapter 5

It had been late when they’d finally scrambled back into the safe-house. The light of dawn had just been peeking over the horizon, and they were exhausted.

They’d haphazardly discarded their weapons and kicked off their boots, but were far too tired to make any moves towards changing their clothes. Instead, they collapsed in a tangled heap on the sofa, too groggy to complain or think too much about it.

It was a few hours later that harsh sunlight shone through a gap in the curtains and landed directly on Roy’s face. He groaned and turned over, fighting off his awakening as best he could. He burrowed further into a comforting warmth, and his fingers clenched around the fabric of a shirt.

Wait.

He froze.

He was cuddling with Jason. 

Shit. 

His eyes snapped open and his grip loosened and he prayed silently that Jay was still sleeping. Roy felt an arm loop around him, and Jason’s forehead fit itself into the crook of his neck. And Roy heard a sleep-filled voice grunt “Go back to sleep, Harper.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Light bulbs die, my sweet. I will depart." - Mr Magorium's Wonder Imporium.

The cold was seeping in through brittle bones and pliant flesh, and there was a swirling vortex in the valley of his chest that once was a home for something warmer. The dim light that filtered through thick lashes gave the illusion of stars, like smeared glitter behind his eyes or perhaps that’s the lack of oxygen getting to his brain.   
Mortality is an elusive thing, and so often pain and corruption are shown to us in the most gentile fashions, and maybe this is in part an effort to soften the blow of things everyone knows are coming. If we do not write sonnets and sing lullabies, we will instead chant that the end is nigh, that the vacuum of time and space will inevitably swallow us whole, because in truth it all means the same thing.  
There was a far off tinkling like the shattering of glass and he tried to turn his face. But his head was far too heavy and there was a violent pounding he couldn’t think beyond. His limbs felt bruised and limp and useless and the gravel beneath him nipped and scratched at his skin but he couldn’t feel it, not even a little. It was a resonating contradiction to be encompassed by such a painful numb, and he was oh so very tired.  
He wondered if they’d come, any of them. He wondered if they’d know, if they’d mourn. And the stars that laced his eyelids danced and shifted, like the motion of light behind threw them into stark relief, and his haggard breaths came shallower still.   
And suddenly something loud came, a noise not far to his right; and he knew he wasn’t alone. The syringe he’d discarded got crushed under booted feet and a lead weight dropped beside him. Harsh and ragged, gasping breaths met his ears in a hollow echo and he knew that Jason was crying. Because if he could’ve trusted in anyone to come for him, it would’ve been Jay, and he was sorry he couldn’t have been stronger.  
Muscled arms lifted him into a hard chest wracked with sobs. And he wanted to speak, he wanted his vision to focus enough to see Jason’s face and not a sky full of stars. And he wanted to be able to hear the words that accompanied the wails that came from deep within the boy he loved, the person he was leaving behind.  
And when it comes time for him to depart and take the final step to his eternal farewell, he wanted to know that Jason would find himself a new light, to tell him that he must never punish himself with a world of darkness. If a bulb goes out it can be replaced with another, and the dark only lasts as long as you let it. And he wanted more than anything to breathe his sorry into the frigid air and somehow calm Jason’s distress, but there was nothing.  
It was time.


	7. Chapter 7

They hadn’t talked about it. Not really. Jason had yelled and railed and Roy couldn’t have gotten a word in if he’d wanted to. He had nothing to say, there were no words that could erase what he’d done, nothing that could quell Jason’s rage.   
But behind the fire in his eyes and the venom on his tongue , Roy saw what he concealed. He saw the way the younger boy’s jaw twitched, how his voice shook as he broke off from every holler, how his eyes never stayed on him for too long.   
And he wanted to plead his ‘sorry’s into the flesh of Jason’s throat, bury himself in the hollow there and pray for forgiveness, beg to be made whole. He hadn’t meant to, he couldn’t help it. It was an itch under his skin, a blur in his minds eye that longed for the clarity of the high, for the numbness that came with flying. For a second he’d been invincible. For a second he was sure that he’d lost it all.

He rolled over, his eyes fighting for focus and Jay was there, like some obscene gift from the divine. And Roy wanted to scream at this cruel, twisted God that would allow the most important person in his world to see him being taken away, because for a crucial moment he thought he’d never make it back. But he was selfish, and he didn’t want to be alone. And it stung behind his eyes quietly abruptly as he had that thought.  
I don’t want to die alone.  
In the distance he could hear Jason’s frantic voice, and he was sorry he wasn’t there to answer, he was sorry he couldn’t say goodbye. He didn’t remember anything after that, and he wondered if that was the end.  
The glare of fluorescent hospital lights is painful and abrupt and he’s sure of one thing, in his darkest moment, there had been someone who cared enough to stay.

That had been two weeks ago. And since the initial blow-up, they’d barely spoken a word to each other. Their eyes lingered, full of anxious uncertainty and questions and pain. Every time Roy’s lips would part and a thousand words would die on his chapped lips because they would never be enough. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, the sting in his eyes sprang forth once more, and he wondered if he’d ever get anything right. When it came to Jason, he was making one false move after another, and nothing had ever mattered before this.  
One night, during the third week of silence, Roy went to bed alone. Jason was working, as per usual, even more so lately. It hurt to know he was being avoided, but Roy couldn’t blame him, Jason’d already put up with him longer than anyone else had even tried to. But it was late, so late in fact that pre-dawn light hit their faces through the partially drawn blinds, and Roy awoke with an arm around him. Jason didn’t speak, though he must’ve known Roy was no longer sleeping. His calloused fingertips trailed gentle and haphazard patterns up and down and around Roy’s forearms, drawing circles in the crease of his elbow, the flesh of them littered with marks, evidence of what he’d done, proof of how he’d failed.   
Roy peered up at the other boy, Jason’s face was pensive, but all the hard edges were smoothed out, and he looked younger, he looked tired. Their gazes didn’t lock, and neither of them spoke for a long while. Jason kept up his careful ministrations and Roy heaved a breath that was almost a sob and-  
”Don’t leave.”  
He had no right to command it, he had no leverage to make Jason stay. But it had worked for him before, and he’d use whatever worked.


	8. Chapter 8

He looks small in his sleep, all curled in on himself like a child, as if even in his unconscious state he’s fighting to retain the warmth the husk of him finds so hard to come by. And it’s in moments such as these that you remember that he is empty and fractured, and no matter what you give him it will slowly slip away, seep through the cracks until he’s hollow and aching again. 

You have to make reminders to refill his reserves, little post-it notes behind your eyelids that let you know that he needs you to tell him what he can’t believe but likes to hear. And sometimes there are so many wrongs in your own life and so many wounds in your own battered body that you must take time to patch yourself up, and the guilt gnaws at you because if you spend too long caring for yourself perhaps he will begin to doubt you once again.

It’s a vicious cycle, and an exhausting exercise. He doesn’t realise you need him, always, constantly. And he is far too strong and stubborn to ever look you in the eye when he is weak, and he will never let loose any words of need, any ounce of pleading. And denial is a friend of his, for he will never admit that you both depend so entirely on each other already. It’s a friend to you both.

The afghan is tucked tightly under his quivering chin, and a shudder runs through the contours of him. He should never be cold. He likes to act that way, it’s easier he says. He confided in one fleeting moment of openness that it helped to mask feelings with nonchalance. It’s a technique you’ve practiced too, to varying degrees of success. You fear he acts that way around you, that maybe the person you’ve grown to know is just another mask. You wonder why he stays. And you want so badly to wrap yourself around him, to keep him warm and sheltered, but you mustn’t reach out and touch, lest you break the spell.

He looks small in his sleep, all curled in on himself like a child, and you wish you knew enough to protect him. You wish you didn’t have to. And more than almost anyone you know the scowl that will overtake his features in his waking moments; you understand that this quiet, tranquil vulnerability will disappear under a smirk or a quip. You want to tell him to stop. You want to beg him to just be real for one second in daylight, but you can’t ask of him what you’re unwilling to return. 

With shaking fingers you retrieve a cigarette and make your way to the window. You leave him shivering on the sofa in his slumber, and you worry if you look at him a second more it’ll be too long.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one as a present for my Jason's birthday. We like to break each other's hearts, basically.

It was a cold night, bitter and stinging and merciless. His calloused hands sought warmth in deep pockets laced with gun powder and lint. With a deep sigh he stepped into the street, his breath leaving him in wisps through the frigid air.

His mind wandered, and filled with dreams of freckles like constellations against pale skin, tousled hair like dewy autumn and mossy eyes that cut to his soul without trying, and these thoughts - though they were painful - came with a warmth that expelled some of the chill.

And just as quickly as these memories came, they gave way to others, the cold coming back with a vengeance and freezing him in place. He remembered the yelling, there’d always been a lot of that, violent gestures and features twisted into snarls, but they’d always been okay, because in the end, some things mattered more, or at least they should have.

_“I can’t do this anymore.”_   


That was the first fracture, a lead weight in his gut that was made of dread, fear working its way through him and coming out as rage.

_“What do you want from me, Jay?!”_   


Everything, always everything. They were both ‘all or nothing’ guys. But beggars can’t be choosers and he had no right to ask. He couldn’t push the words past his serpent tongue as more and more curses he didn’t mean spewed forth. He wanted to plead, but the words grew mangled, came out as hits when they were meant to be caresses. Always had been.

_“You know me! You **know** me!”_   


Desperate, begging, filled with anger and the bitter edge of resentment, but mostly just made of hurt. That single plea had played on repeat ever since he’d walked out. The crash of knees to the floorboards was jarring, so different to how these things usually went. And for a second he stopped, gazed down upon pain-ravaged green eyes, followed the line of the upturned jaw that he’d traced with his fingertips so many times. Roy was on the ground before him, literally begging. But he didn’t know what to do with that.

He recalled how his fingers trembled and twitched, as if to cup the other boy’s face for just a second, because it had always helped them both before, made them grounded. But there was too much hurt still lingering, he didn’t understand why Roy was pleading when **_he_** was the one who said he couldn’t do this.

Jason couldn’t deal with this, too much all at once and not quite enough. His eyes clamped shut against it, and he made to turn away, and inside he knew that this was it. Roy was at his breaking point. He’d pushed him this far. If he walked away now, they were done. This was finished. He’d always been self-destructive.

He remembered the choked-off whimper, the agonizing plea that could’ve been his name, it could’ve been ‘ _stay_ ’. He wasn’t sure which cut deeper. And as the door shut with a resounding click, he knew he’d held Roy’s heart in his hands, and he’d left it bleeding on splintered floorboards.

Summer had come and gone, fall was another passing blur, and winter brought him back to the city. Any road will get you there. All paths lead back home. But home wasn’t this place, home was a boy who’d stolen his heart, and got his own broken for his trouble. He had no right to come back here, he knew that. Jason had nothing more to offer than he had when this had started, but maybe he was ready to believe that it was enough, because Roy had never seemed to mind. Maybe it would’t make a blind bit of difference, but he had nothing left to lose.

The knock on the door was thundering, his knuckles bashing against the wood a little too hard in his nervousness. But a shuffle came through and a latch clicked, the door swung inward.

“Jay.”   


A whisper, disbelieving, hurt and almost reverent. 

“I missed you.”  


The words could’ve been his, they’d could’ve been Roy’s. It didn’t matter, they’d both meant them. They were back at square one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of my personal headcanons is that whenever Jason gets a night terror as a result of his ptsd, Roy tells him stories that he was told as a child on the reservation to help calm him down.

 He startles awake, and glances around in the din for the disturbance. The whimpering comes soft, occasionally disrupted by a broken wail. Something hot pinches inside Roy’s chest at the sound. Cautiously he reaches across the mattress, the sheet are damp with the sweat pouring from Jason’s convulsing body. Deep in the throes of a nightmare, trapped by memories he can never speak of upon waking, Jason is crying. Roy always feels so helpless.

His hand takes gentle hold of one shaking bicep and he tugs softly, the younger boy’s body rolls to face him, Jason’s eyes are pinched tightly closed, his lips still letting loose quiet pleas. Roy shakes, lightly then more sure, more firm, Jason has to wake up now, needs to remember that he can.

Roy calls to him, his name over and over like a prayer, he tries to reassure, makes promises that he hopes he can keep and says his name again. Until finally, Jason’s eyes peer up at him, disoriented with just waking and glassy with pain, but Roy can deal with this better, now that Jason can see him, an see that he’s here and that he’s not leaving. Jason needs something to ground him sometimes, something to come back to.

Same as always Jason’s face presses to Roy’s chest, his head tucked under Roy’s chin. And he waits, seconds pass and slowly the rhythm of Roy’s consistent heart beat helps even out Jason’s breathing. And Roy begins to speak. He murmurs soft in the hush of night, tells stories of his people that always soothed him as a child, [Little Dawn Boy ](http://www.firstpeople.us/FP-Html-Legends/LittleDawnBoyAndTheRainbowTrail-Navajo.html)was always his favourite, he knows that Jason likes it too

_“With soft rains above us,_   
_With sweet flowers below us,_   
_With white corn behind us,_   
_With green plants before us,_   
_With pale mists all around us,_   
_Over the rainbow trail we go!_   
_Hither we wander, thither we wander,_   
_Over the beautiful trail we go!”_

And before he’s finished Jason is sleeping again, and the dawn is moments from breaking.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> five times kissed.

**i.**

He can’t recall exactly which one of them took that plunge - a step that would’ve seemed so minuscule had they lived simpler lives. But, he’s almost certain that it must have been a move made on his own part, he was the one who so often got ahead of himself, jumped in at the deep end and hoped against hope he didn’t drown. It was inevitable, He was already lost to the younger boy’s depths. From the first second of lips upon lips a warmth spread down his chest and to the tips of his fingers and they itched to get closer. 

It lasted a mere moment and when his eyes fluttered open once more the thief was gone. And in the darkness his eyes said ‘ _i’m sorry_ ’, and  his heaving breaths said ‘ _i’ve wanted to do that a long time_ ’.

**ii.**

Weeks passed before they met again and Roy didn’t know whether this sudden avoidance was mutual, for sometimes he felt he was alone in his yearning, that Jason was doing everything in his power to never cross his path. It took time to sift through his denial, Roy too was distancing himself. He was unprepared for the confrontation that would undoubtedly take place. 

They saw each other again in unfortunate circumstances, with the Titans giving chase to X on a weeknight patrol. Roy was positioned up high, his bow at the ready, and for that he was grateful, he could insist on an unclear shot for his lack of shooting.

The fight was intense, and Roy’s contribution was minimal. He wasn’t ready to face this head-on, not with all these new feelings stirring unbidden. And when he ran after the thief, his feet pounding from ledge to ledge, X stopped and pulled off the skull mask for a moment, just long enough to blow a kiss and drop a wink before slipping out of sight.

**iii.**

After months of meeting at the same vantage point and sharing a smoke under the city skyline, they finally began to talk about things that matter. There were no longer vague, half-truths that hinted and alluded but never addressed. 

And long past due, they started to learn each other, trivial things like what songs made them sad, and what pizza toppings were a deal-breaker, and they laughed for the first time in entirely too long. It pealed loud and bounced back to them and from the outside they almost looked happy.

When it was time to leave Roy stood first, and he stretched long and yawned. He wasn’t big on goodbyes, and they’d both passed their quota as far as he was concerned. So, as a parting gesture he placed a kiss to Jay’s forehead, and he chuckled when the younger boy gazed up at him in surprise.

**iv.**

He wishes things were simpler. He wishes he didn’t miss Jay so much. He’s detached, and his team is feeling more and more like a time bomb. The truth of it is that they don’t know him, and it had never bothered him before. But now it was an itch under his skin, a nagging in the corner of his mind, because he’d found something more than he’d been looking for when he came here.

And Jason didn’t know everything, of course not, and he probably never would. But, there was a mutual understanding that came with that. And now the absence of the other boy was like a physical thing, an aching hollow somewhere inside that only dissipated in his presence, and could not be filled by the company of others.

And the next time they met he didn’t bother with any other greeting than to drag him into a kiss.

**v.**

It hurt, it was a deep puncture wound to the sternum that was bleeding fast. The fight was much greater than any of them were used to, and he hadn’t seen it coming until it was too late. Roy wasn’t even positive of which of the criminals had dealt the blow, only that it had left him sprawled and bloodied. 

And within moments X was there, disregarding the eyes of those surrounding them, the thief took Roy’s head into his hands, and held it cradled in his lap as he murmured and soothed and tried to keep pressure on the wound. The younger boy’s voice was getting raspier and Roy wanted to ask if he was alright. And maybe that said more than anything else could, that in his bleeding, semi-conscious state he worried more for Jason’s well-being. 

X’s breath hitched and he pitched slowly forward, his fingers carded in thick red hair and his lips pressed gently to Roy’s. And as his eyes fell closed, the archer could’ve sworn he heard a whispered plea for him to stay. And he wanted to respond with ‘ _always_ ’.


	12. Chapter 12

It tingled and burned on chapping lips, and inhaled like flame and mystery, a breath of rebellion that disappeared as nothing but smoke in the air. Ash fell as greyscale flakes upon worn leather with a flick of calloused fingers.

This was how every meeting started, with a cigarette between pursed lips, one pair and then another as the stick was passed, until it wad crushed beneath heavy duty boot treads.

  
With smoke husky voices they exchanged very little, yet they shared a warmth so far beyond what they felt alone. And it was almost easy to forget the million different ways that this - and they - could be blown wide apart.

  
They both acknowledged that - like most things  - this would inevitably end.

That inevitability was like a physical being, a beast that howled in the back of their minds, that prowled the fringe of every thought when they were together, and devoured them both when they were alone. It watched and waited and they could feel it preying on them, yet they would never, could never tempt fate by addressing it.

  
Still they came together, in a brutal and heady collision that left them both fulfilled and longing in its wake.

  
The things they hated about themselves, they loved about each other, and it was a devastating realisation to come to.

  
They kept on participating in this same song and dance, because it made them feel better, for as long as it lasted and for every time they came back to it, it was comforting to feel for a while that somebody cared.

  
For the thief who’d never entertained the thought of finding such affection, and believed too strongly that he was undeserving, and the archer who’d never tried hard enough to form a connection, who’d never realised how much he’d been missing, they found that there were few things more important than this.

  
There were few things more forbidden.


	13. Chapter 13

It was storming out, torrential downpour of icy rain that showed no signs of letting up. Roy had been cursed with the midnight patrol, and it wasn’t long before he was shivering, his uniform clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

With a deep, shuddering sigh he closed the door to the safe-house behind himself. He ran a hand through his sopping hair and dropped his quiver to the floor.

He registered muted sounds coming from the lounge and was instantly alert. He edged around the corner, cataloging the flickering light of the TV in the otherwise dark space. He relaxed when he noticed it was just Jason sat on the sofa. Wait- Was that his hoodie?

In the next second Jason turned to face him and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I got wet.” He offered. 

Roy wordlessly took a seat beside him. He wondered why Jason was there, how long he’d been there. Had something happened? But, he didn’t voice these concerns. If Jason wasn’t gonna make a big deal out of this, then neither was he. 

The archer got comfortable, slouching into his seat and spreading his arms along the back of the sofa, his eyes on the screen. Jason raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest as Roy fiddled with the dark hair at the nape of the younger boy’s neck.


	14. Chapter 14

He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten himself into this situation.

He was being torn in two, stripped bare and left raw. He was constantly faced with having to choose between what was right and what was right _for him_.

As a hero he fought day and night, his livelihood one of relentless combat.

Yet, he found he’d never known conflict until Titans East had been informed of a break-in and he was stood before the boy who tied him up in knots and left him floundering for excuses to stay.

Despite their masks and the short distance between them, Roy knew that Jason’s eyes were on him.

There was a heated twinge in the valley of his chest as realisation finally dawned. _He’d have to fight Jason_.

He should have known this time would come. If he were being honest, it was remarkable that this situation hadn’t presented itself sooner.

His team jumped into action. But for a second Roy remained frozen, locked within his inner turmoil.

He fought with himself daily. He didn’t want to fight Jason too.

And then, without making the decision to move, Roy raced into pursuit. He found himself upon the roof, his eyes on the masked thief in some form of obscene stand-off.

He lowered his arrow and offered a sad smile. “Jay…” he ventured, but in a flash Jason was gone.

Maybe he’d grow to regret this soon, too.

When his friends came running and shouting his name, Roy told them he’d gotten away. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. And certainly not compared to the dishonesty he’d given them recently, no small amount of it featuring X.


	15. Chapter 15

_The air was thick, murky and black and choking with swirling grit and debris. He sputtered and strived and his lungs burned with it. His vision was obscured by the dense smog that fenced him in and wrapped around him, breezy like a caress and smothering in its hold. The heat of it was searing, itching on his skin, dry and chapped despite his exertion._

_He lunged forward blindly, valiantly searching for a reprieve and opening in the black, a light through the cloying smoke. His arms flailed in violent thrashes in his desperate attempt to simply_ **breathe**.

He came to with a guttural yell, his body quaking in cold perspiration as he felt a hand cupping shoulder, grasping tight with strong fingers. Jason’s voice filtered in as his gasping breaths calmed.

He turned to face the younger boy, who looked chiseled and concerned in the dim. Roy shook his head a little too quickly, and dropped his face to Jason’s shoulder to conceal his stinging eyes. He couldn’t talk about this. Jay didn’t know and Roy wasn’t yet willing to tell him.

Roy had been so young when his father had died. He hadn’t experienced the wild fire firsthand, but he’d seen the glow of it on the horizon, felt the heat of it in the breeze, heard the crisp pops and crackles of burning wood as he waited for a father who’d never return. He’d lost his innocence in a fire he’d never been in, and he knew what it was like when you couldn’t breathe.

Jason didn’t ask and for that Roy was grateful, it wasn’t like either of them were really the talking type.

So it turned out that saving children from a burning building wasn’t good for his mental state, but he was a hero, or at least he tried to be


	16. Chapter 16

Like the vast majority of those who shared their lifestyle, they found little comfort in occasions that were universally tagged as ‘special’. Christmases weren’t quite 'merry’, New Year was melancholy with things that never changed, and birthdays came and went with the figure of their age never reflecting how old they felt.

  
With these thoughts in mind, Roy wondered again why he was doing this at all. He considered with a self-mocking bitterness, that maybe even after everything, he still hoped that there was a light somewhere in this.

  
So, he sat atop the rooftop ledge, their usual rendezvous location. He grasped a box in one shaking hand as the other raked through disheveled hair.

He’d had to stop a mugging on the way over, he’d been jostled and the box had flung to the ground, the large cupcake it contained had mercifully remained inside. However, the frosting had smeared across the lid, the text no longer eligible. Roy had cursed as he’d retrieved it.

  
He heard footsteps approaching and sighed, before voicing the words the cake no longer declared.

  
“Happy Birthday, Jay.” And he felt like a hypocrite, birthdays weren’t happy at all.


	17. Chapter 17

He just couldn’t do this anymore, this hopeless waiting for a resolution that they both knew wouldn’t come. There was no answer. If they hadn’t dived head-first they might’ve been able to realise the inevitability of this ending. They could’ve spared themselves the hurt.

If Roy were being honest with himself he would acknowledge that the truth of this was that, despite all the to and fro, and the hiding, the blood spiked with adrenaline and the thrill of getting caught, he couldn’t regret a moment. To wish this hadn’t happened would be an injustice to everything he’d felt. Nothing could wash that away.

But despite the depth of his feelings, regardless of how much it would ache - he was done waiting around for this to come to its plane-crash end - he had to finish it himself. It was a foolish impulse of self-sacrifice. And he knew this would hurt Jay too, but it would hurt them both so much more if he allowed this to continue.

“This is it.” The archer forced out. His fists were clenched and his voice wavered.

“This ain’t workin’, and I’m done waiting around for this to be something it’s not.” He insisted, trying to keep his words sounding strong.

The thief said nothing, stood with arms folded and mask in place and that made things both better and worse. If Speedy were to see the other boy’s face surely his resolve would crumble, but now he was faced with the possibility that Jay didn’t care enough to fight. He didn’t know which thought hurt more.


	18. Chapter 18

They say that reflections reveal our deepest secrets. Maybe this counts towards the tally of people who too often bloody their knuckles to shatter mirrors they can’t look in. Troubles festered beneath pale and marred flesh, breeding self-doubt and poisoning perceptions. It was a twisted form of attraction, a magnetic pull, and a whisper that maybe – for once – somebody might just understand.

If they’d been the sort of people who took steps back to view the larger picture, too see around their misgivings, instead of burying everything in layers of things they couldn’t change, they might have seen the irony in accepting things in somebody else that you couldn’t face about yourself. Maybe that was where the truth of this lay.

Maybe that was why they kept coming back to this, why they couldn’t turn away. They were both in denial, but that was nothing new, it was a trait they’d shared long before they’d met. But, there was a thrum in their veins with their close proximity, a desire there to ask all the questions that they’d never want to be asked themselves, but yet their lips were sealed. They couldn’t risk too much bubbling to the surface and spilling free. Everything they’d cared for had slipped through their fingers like fine grains of sand that they’d never been able to make castles out of, they’d never had that kind of stability.

Maybe that was why they found such comfort in sitting side by side. Maybe that was why they never flinched away from the brush of each other’s skin, even with the knowledge that they’d have lashed out had it been anybody else. Maybe there would always be more to this that they’d admit to, more than they could have and keep.

Maybe.


	19. Chapter 19

“I fucked up…” It was such a hollow sound, breathed upon frigid air and lost in the reverberating emotional toll of it. They’d been continuing this dance long enough for Roy to know that it meant so much more than initially intended.

Roy loved Jason, the words may never have slipped passed chapped lips in the dead of night, but they were irrevocably true. And to hear the waver in the younger boy’s hushed confession caused Roy’s chest to constrict. “ _I’m fucked up_..” Jason sighed out, the sound barely reaching the archer though he stood only feet away. It was like he was ashamed, like his vulnerability somehow lessened who he was, like he didn’t want Roy to know, to hear him hurting. And that was unacceptable, the last straw.

  
Roy sucked in a breath to ease the sudden sting through his torso. He was a tapestry of regrets, woven together with good intentions. He was made of them, each one created a new crack or fracture that overlapped with one another so completely they were mistaken for the pattern of his design.

  
Denial never helped anything, and he knew Jason’s mistakes and vices made up a list as lengthy as this own. The first step is admitting, he’d learnt that the hard way before. Roy understood that dismissing what Jason had said wouldn’t help him, telling him he was wrong wouldn’t make things right. And desperately Roy wished for the words to say.

  
“You could say that.” He lamented. “But, I love you, anyway.”


End file.
